Fifty Cents for Your Soul
by lostnthesound
Summary: Rachel Berry has made become the next Hollywood starlet.Noah Puckerman is trying to become the next John Mayer. Can the two save each other from the costs of stardom? PUCKLEBERRY!


**Hey guys! I got a few requests for a Puckleberry story, so I decided to try out a chapter and see if anyone liked the concept. Please please please review. They make me so much more eager to write! Oh! And if you haven't already read it, please check out my story Apples and Trees. Enjoy!**

Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.  
- Marilyn Monroe-

"Good Evening and welcome to tonight's edition of Access Hollywood. It is September 6th, 2018. It has been quite a busy year for the up and coming starlet Rachel Berry. She is only 25 and she has already starred in three feature length films just this year alone! Two of which are receiving a bit of Oscar buzz. I had a chance to catch up with the stunning young ingenue to discuss all the hype on her upcoming film, A Poisonwood Bible, where she stars as the-"

"Uggghh! Off!" Rachel screamed at the television. It switched off instantly much to Rachel's relief. She just couldn't stand to watch another interview where every word she spoke had been written by someone else and rehearsed for hours on end.

That reporter made it seem like she had been in LA for two seconds before she got her big break. If only the adoring public knew what she had to do, what she had to give up in order to have her face plastered on every magazine cover. If only.

Frustrated, she grabbed the keys to her new electric car, another ploy her manager thought would bring her likability. Everyone loves an environmentally conscious actress. Walking out the front door of her modest Malibu home, or at least as modest a home in Malibu could be, Rachel yelled goodbye to Rosa, her housekeeper and dashed off to have a word with her publicist.

As she sat in the busy morning traffic, drinking a freshly brewed latte, she quickly became frustrated with the bumper to bumper mentality of LA. At first she found the atmosphere invigorating, but now the constant competition of who was better, just seemed to constantly annoy her. Everything in LA seemed different now that her rose colored glasses had been stepped on. Even the fresh blue sky framed perfectly by the bowing palm trees was now thick with smog.

After waiting 1 hour and 34 minutes for a 15 mile drive, Rachel pulled up to her publicist's office, straightened out the little smock she had been told to wear, and prepared for the senseless charade of the paparazzi. Bright bulbs flashed in her eyes, blinding the young actress. She tried to smile, to appear like this attack did not bother her in the slightest, but she was pretty sure it looked like she was grimacing instead.

The business' giant doorman helped usher Rachel into the building, his grip constantly tightening on her left arm, almost as though he were trying to figure out her blood pressure. Once safely inside the small office, it's outward facade of opportunity quickly disappeared. A tight knot formed in the pit of Rachel's stomach as she realized the idiocy of her actions. She had showed up to the business without an appointment. If she wanted to be seen, for some action to be taken, she had to right her wrong.

Rusty slugged into his office, his belt already hanging off his frame, unhooked. A small squirt of mustard still hung from his chin. Rachel was repulsed by the toad before her. Large sweat stains encircled his armpits, as his oversized torso heaved in and out with each breath from his decaying mouth.

"Heya Sugar," he slurred, alcohol clearly evident on his breath. "Why are you being so naughty? You know daddy doesn't like it when you misbehave."

"Listen Rusty, I really don't have time for this. I have to get to set for the last few shots of Pois-"

"Shhh," Rusty murmured pressing his pudgy finger to her pouted lips. "It will only take a minute or two, plus we can fix whatever issue you seem to be having."

Rachel didn't even budge as his hand drifted down to her neck his clutch tightening as he began to squeeze the life out of her. Before Rachel's world turned to black, she heard the unmistakeable sound of his zipper undoing.

Twenty minutes later, Rachel emerged from the office, her coat collar pulled tight around her neck to hide the bruising of his fingers, making sure not to cry in front of the paparazzi. She had been assured that from this point forward, she could write her own interviews, but at what price?

She nodded at the security guard posted out front of Paramount Studios as she drove onto the lot that had been her home during the last few months of shooting.

Bustling into the make-up trailer, fully aware of her tardiness, Rachel shed off her coat and plopped down into the swivel chair before the mirror. Annie, the head make-up artist was eager to start covering up the giant masses of purple swirling around Rachel's fragile neck. When Rachel first came on board with the film, Annie asked about the abuse, but Rachel was adamant that "some things just have to be done in order to succeed." Rachel's strength did not keep Annie from worrying about the young starlet. Annie had seen her fair share of women get swept up in the glitz and glamor of Hollywood and was upset that she couldn't get to Rachel before she was lost in the swift current.

As Annie dusted the ingenue's neck with the cake-y foundation, Rachel stared at her reflection in the mirror. She almost didn't recognize herself. Once she had signed with her agent, he made sure that she got a nose job and lighter hair. To hell with the idea that Hollywood would like her exotic look that had been engrained in her mind since birth. All Hollywood wanted with Rachel was her charismatic smile and long legs.

After every synthetic eyelash was applied to her lids and her cheekbones were correctly highlighted, Rachel headed off to the wardrobe department, eager to get the last few shots in for this movie. Shimmying out of her clothes, Rachel looked down at the lacy lingerie that sat snug against her frame. Right beneath the under-wire of her left breast was a small dermal piercing of her signature gold star of David. Her agent believed that showing of her religion so boldly, would not be a wise move when first getting started. Once she was an icon, like Madonna, she could wear red string all over her body for all he cared, but he wanted to play it safe for the first few years of her stardom.

Running a hand over the cold piece of metal, Rachel realized that this small gold star was the only piece of her past she had held onto. All she wanted since birth was to be seen, to be appreciated. As the skin tight dress was pulled up around her chest, she wondered who they were really seeing.

**I hope you enjoy this first segment of my little story. Next chapter is PUCK!**

**Review review review please!**


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